Adeo Fit Creator
by AnimeGirlKairi
Summary: Instead of leaving like he had originally planned, Henry decides to stay with Joey and help out with the constant old and new problems of the studio. But with Henry's new medical issue, and the sudden disappearances of his fellow coworkers, he's starting to regret his decision. Luckily his ol' pal Joey has an offer for him that he just can't possibly pass up. (Breaks fixed)
1. Doctors' Offices and Funeral Parlor

**A/N: Before you read this fic, I must inform you that it has been** _ **years**_ **since the last time I wrote a fanfiction. Life has gotten pretty hectic and before I knew it it has been almost four years since I wrote my last fanfiction. So if my writing is cringey or odd, I apologize in advance. Practice makes perfect, as the saying goes.**

 **Besides that, please enjoy.**

Despite the impossible deadlines, despite the violations of safety regulations, despite the incessant absence of my best pal, the new and broken pipelines, the constant complaining of whats-its, and the growing void in the company's bank account...I chose to stay.

Joey's losing it, I can tell. Ever since he lost the ability to walk he was a shell of his former self. He's a lot more reclusive now, he barely leaves his office anymore, and half the time whenever I try to talk to him it's like I'm talking to a wall. That rambunctious man that wasn't afraid to let anyone know what he was feeling and why, is gone. He's just a broken old man now, and his old pal just didn't have the heart to leave.

I still draw the scenes, sketch the forms of the devil darling himself, and give them the love and care I always do in all my works. Though, the same couldn't be said about the others. Sammy has been a lot more hostile ever since Joey shut his doors to him, Alisson has yet to stop looking over her shoulder because of the breakdown she had to deal with from a raging Susie who felt she was just backstabbed. Everyone else...everyone else is just...it's as if everyone has been shrouded in dark ambience. Some are extra tense, some are depressed, and some are just not all there. If I hadn't been working here for a couple of years I would've thought this place was a funeral parlor.

But it's not, and these people are still acting as if someone had just died.

I stilled my pencil at that thought. I looked at the unfinished sketch of a sad demon who's crying over the loss of his melted snow-pal. I tapped the edge of the page in anticipation to continue working but decided against it and let the pencil fall onto the table. I sighed and leaned back on my stiff chair.

Someone might as well have.

* * *

I gently knocked on the door, careful not to spill the stack of sketches and work pieces in the other hand. There was a gruff 'come in' and I gingerly turned the squeaky knob. The door whined as I pushed it open and was greeted with a dimly-lit office and the boss leaning forward in his wheelchair, staring at what appeared to be a blank page with his writing hand halted in contempt as to what to write.

I shut the door behind me and walked up to the desk and laid the stack of papers down before him. He didn't look up, nor did he even glance at the papers before him. It was only after a moment of silence did he give up on writing and laid his antique pen down.

"I take it these are the new storyboards?" He didn't look up but instead caressed his pale hand on the top page gently.

"Yeah, I finished it. We should be good to go."

"Good. Good." He nodded slowly, taking the top page off and inspecting it with tired, glazed eyes. "I'll get this to Sammy and we'll discuss the music arrangement." He placed the page back on top and slowly swiveled his chair to reach the outer right drawer. He pulled out a large binder and scooped the stack of papers inside, his ghostly hands shaking the entire time. It broke my heart to see him like this, it hurt every time I came in here. I was about to say something when he beat me to it. "Good work. That will be all for today."

I stared at him for a minute before deciding now wasn't a good time. He's still reclusive and dismissive. To think this man used to be a stubborn show-off.

I left the desk and went to turn the knob before something stopped me. I turned to him to find that he picked up his pen again and finally started writing, it was very slow and almost a pain to watch due to his shaky hands.

"Joey," I called. He didn't look up, but he did stop writing. He didn't say anything so I continued. "You can always come talk to me. You know that right?"

His pen started moving again, and I decided not to linger anymore. I closed the door and left the broken man to his work.

* * *

I couldn't go to work today, my leg wouldn't stop hurting. It started out as harmless charlie-horses at night, but now it's constant. I couldn't get out of bed, every moment I tried putting weight on it the pain would slice through me like a knife and make me bawl like an overgrown baby.

My wife decided to call the doctor and make an appointment. I told her that I probably pulled a muscle and needed to rest and that she was just being her usual overactive self. She huffed at my comment and made one anyways. Thinking back on the conversation, the way that I said it, I never realized how much Joey had rubbed off on me.

I called Joey and told him the situation. He was quiet at first but sent his regards and hoped that I would feel better. It kinda through me off guard, he was always the type to chide me for the smallest things and make a big joke about it, but then again he hasn't been 'Joey' for a while now.

Not knowing what else to do, I grabbed my sketchbook off of my night stand and continued where I left off. I drew until noon, in which my wife helped me to the car and drove me over to the doctors. As we waited in the office, I pulled out my sketchbook again and put the finishing touches on the sketch. As I finished shading in the last piece, the doctor walked in with his trusty clipboard in hand. He was an older gentleman, and a sweet one at that, he wore a smile that could put a tantrum child to rest.

"My, my, if it isn't the calmest man in the world." The doctor chuckled softly, examining the clipboard one last time before setting it on the counter nearby. He grabbed his stethoscope and placed the cold medal on my ribcage. I flinched at the touch, in which the good doctor chuckled again. "Well...maybe not in the world but…" After he finished, he swung the stethoscope to hang behind his back as he grabbed the clipboard and sat next to me, pulling a pen out of his coat pocket and flipping to a blank page. He licked the tip of the pen with his tongue for a few seconds before jotting down the name and date. "Alright sport, what seems to be the problem?"

"It's his leg doctor," Linda intervened before I could even think of what to say, "He's been in pain last night and all morning. Nothing seemed to help ease the pain either." The scribbling of the pen on the board replaced the temporary silence after my wife paused, waiting for a response, when none came she continued. "I was hoping you would help."

Finishing his notes, he looked at my wife with a silly smile. "Well, I mean, don't you think you're kind of, I don't know, jumping the gun? It may just be the classic case of a pulled, or twisted muscle."

I gave her a knowing look, and she rolled her eyes. "I didn't want to take a chance."

The doctor's smile broadened at the cute exchange. "Well, there's no harm in that."

He placed the clipboard back on the counter and pulled out rubber gloves. The familiar snap of a glove-slapping-wrist echoed in the room as I lied on the bed and allowed the doctor to roll up my jeans. He pressed various points all along the leg, turning it over every so often to get to other areas that were hard to reach. He did this for about five minutes before unrolling my jeans back into place. He took off the sticky gloves and threw them away in a nearby trash can. He picked up the clipboard once again and sat back with his pen in hand.

"Hmm...There's definitely a lot stress and constriction," He looked up for a brief minute as I sat back up again before continuing, "Can you please describe your pain?"

I looked down at my leg, still feeling the tight, throbbing pulses shoot through me like an elastic band constantly snapping. "It...hurts like hell," I started hesitantly, "like as if someone is grabbing my leg and pulling and twisting it to go the wrong way."

The doctor paused and my wife looked at me worriedly. "That's quite...the description." The doctor continued writing down on his clipboard before looking back up at me. "I may have an idea as to what it may be, but it's too soon to tell. In the meantime, I'm going to subscribe to you a muscle relaxer and see if that helps." The doctor tore off a piece of the paper and handed it to my wife. "Give this to the pharmacist and they should help."

The doctor got up and swung the stethoscope back to the front. He patted his coat and wiped off the excess eraser shavings on his clipboard. "I want you to come back in two weeks for a follow-up. Though, if the pain is getting worse I want you to come back as soon as possible. In the meantime," He gave me a warm smile, "try to relax and limit as much strain on the leg as possible. I've got some work to do." He nodded his farewells and left me with the Misses.

* * *

Time has passed, and it didn't get better. It only got worse. The spasms were more frequent, and they hurt like hell. But it wasn't just my leg anymore, my whole body started jerking uncontrollably, and I felt extra heavy, like all my energy was sucked dry.

My wife called the doctor again, except this time he was coming here because I couldn't get out of bed without collapsing into a ball because of agonizing pain.

When he arrived, he pulled my covers off and immediately examined my leg like the previous appointment, except this time his touch felt like needles pricking into my skin. He hummed grimly as he placed the covers back over my leg.

"Not good. Not good." He mumbled as he reached into the bag he brought and pulled out a very small vial and syringe. "Alright, I think I know what you're problem is and I believe this is going to help." Infusing the shot with the unknown liquid, he uncovered my leg again and inserted it into my upper thigh. I gagged from the unsuspecting surge of pain and tightened my grip on the covers until my knuckles were white as snow. "I know, I know. That should do it." He placed the syringe back into his bag and covered my leg again.

My wife, who's been watching this entire time from the back of the room, made her way to the edge of my bed. "What's wrong with him doctor?" She whispered hoarsely.

My brain couldn't think from all the pain. In a vain attempt to make it stop, I threw the covers over my head and shut my eyes.

"I believe this to be a generalized dystonia; perhaps a dopa-responsive type." The words were muffled but I could still hear them. "Tell me, has your husband experienced any trauma in the head or spine?"

"N-no. He hasn't. His work doesn't really involve him doing a lot of exercise since he's an animator."

"Any previous jobs?"

"He used to work at a local factory, but that was before we met so I don't know that much about it." I could feel my wife sit on the bed, drumming her fingers on the bed sheets. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Is there anything I can do to make it better?"

The doctor hummed thoughtfully as he picked up his bag. "I'm sorry to say there isn't. The medicine I gave him should help but unfortunately it may take a long time for it to take effect. Make sure he keeps taking the muscle relaxants, it should help the process. Luckily, what he has isn't fatal so you don't need to worry about that."

The doctor was about to leave when a sudden thought occurred to him. "He can still work, but I advise against walking at all costs. I recommend a wheelchair in the meantime. I shall take my leave now."

With that he was gone, and I was finally able to get some sleep.

* * *

"So...that's gist of it." I finished relaying what happened the past ten days to Joey who only listened in silence with a very stern look on his face. "I can still work, but I will need to take more breaks, and my pace may not be the same as before, but I'll make sure everything reaches its deadline."

Joey nodded in understanding. "I see, no worries Hen. I'll make sure everyone is aware of your new condition."

Hen. That's a nickname I haven't heard in a long time. I've forgotten how much Joey teased me for acting like a mother hen when it came to making sure my drafts were perfectly correlated into the animation sequence. _"You need to stop fluffing your feathers whenever someone made a mistake, Ms. Hen,"_ He would say. Which I found hypocritical considering he was more of a perfectionist than me.

Thinking on it now, I didn't realize until now that Joey seems more...himself than before. In fact, the opposite. He seemed like he was full of life. The last week and a half or so really threw me for a loop with days full of pain and others filled with soggy thinking and heavy breathing that I didn't notice the slight shift in the atmosphere in the studio.

It wasn't just Joey that changed either. There were a lot of maintenance going on with new pipe installments, and some kind of plan for machine? I only heard rumors, but I didn't think much of it. But still, I had absolutely no idea as to why Joey needed such large pipes, but I figured that'd be something I could ask later. Right now I just needed to focus back on getting into the swing of things again.

"But I'm glad to see you're back at work, I don't know what I'd do without you." _Probably go out of business_ was what I wanted to say but I didn't want to sour his mood after the weeks of downcast I had to deal with from him and everyone else.

Actually, now that I think about it, I haven't seen as many people around; no Sammy, Susie, Norman, not even Thomas. I thought for sure I would've ran into at least one of them on my to Joey's office, especially with the new maintenance going on, but it's been extra quiet lately.

Well, excluding the sounds of drills and pumps everywhere.

I decided to ignore the thought. "Me too." Was all I said. I placed my hands on the cold wheels of my chair and awkwardly turned around to head out the door. "If you need anything, let me know."

"Actually…" His voice cut me off and I turned my head to look over shoulder to stare at the sly grin plastered on his aging face. "...there is something you can do for me." He chuckled to himself as he pulled out a book from one of his drawers and placed it on the desk. From what I could tell it was black and newly published, but it was too far away for me to make out the words. "Could you meet me downstairs after hours?"


	2. An Offer You Can't Refuse

It was a very odd request, especially coming from Joey, but considering how I missed a good chunk of work and not being able to be by Joey's side when he might've needed me the most made me obligated to pay him back, no matter how weird it was.

I looked at the new elevator before me, it looked nice...and functional. Joey had these installed the first week he got stuck in the wheelchair so he could go anywhere in the studio without having to worry about the stairs, including the new, lower levels he demanded on. _Why would he need so much space anyways? To build an amusement park?_ Now that was a silly thought.

I sighed. It seems like he doesn't tell me anything anymore. I was usually the first one he talked to for a new plan, but now, it seems like I'm the last.

I sighed again.

But only Joey uses the elevator, not because it's exclusive for him but for how everyone knows that the elevators were known, well, for not being made with the proper materials. Budget was strict and Joey couldn't afford some of the right material, and it showed quite often. The ticks, the screeches, the rough movement, despite the fact it's only little over a month old. I doubt it would even last the year, but who knows. For now, it's _my_ only way to reach the basement without worrying about the stairs and heaven knows there's no way I'm going to go through that awful agonizing pain again.

I hesitantly pushed the button and rolled into the slightly dilapidated elevator. I pushed the button for the basement and the elevator jerked upon request. I jumped a little when the elevator started to descend slowly but relaxed when I realized I wasn't falling to my death. As I waited, I looked down at my troubled foot. I never knew how much it was twisted until a few days ago, it was almost as if I broke my ankle based on how much it faced the wrong way. I always shuddered at the sight of it. Luckily, however, it wasn't hurting right now, it reached its climax a while back and has slowly deteriorated to a mild sore. I guess I could thank the muscle relaxers for that, despite it taking about a week for them to actually start working.

Upon entering the level, the doors screeched upon opening and I quickly rolled out of the death trap with relief. I made my way through the halls and headed towards the storage room Joey wanted to meet me in. As I slowly rolled my way over, I couldn't help but feel...nervous. Joey always asked the weirdest things sometimes but nothing like this, it kind of put me on edge. But I wanted to get this over with as fast as possible, so I trudged onward.

But once I reached the room and opened the squeaky door, my heart dropped into my stomach. On the floor, sketched in what looked-and hoped to be-ink, was a pentagram.

"What...the…"

"Ah! Henry!" His voice pierced my thoughts and I swiveled my chair to see Joey off to the side, with the black book from before in his lap. "Thank you for coming."

"What the hell Joey?!" Was all I could say at the moment as I tried to wrap the idea around my head why there was a demonic symbol on the floor of the studio's storage closet!

Joey chuckled. "That's about what I would expect from you." He rubbed his book like a sweet child and looked up at me again, "But before you decide to do anything else, let me explain." It was more a question than a statement, but right now I was deciding whether or not to get out of there or get a valid reason for...whatever the hell he was doing. I decided to choose the latter, and do the first right after.

I held my hands out in aggravated submission, and Joey smiled in anticipation. "Excellent! Now...where to start...oh!" He looked at his book and showed it to me. "Do you know what this is?"

I squinted at the small text and read aloud, "The Illusions of...Living?" But the smaller text below was just too small to see from the distance, and I wasn't inclined to move an inch further into the room.

"Yes! Yes! I wrote this book. It took me years but I finally finished it!" He hoisted his book up in pride. "So much research, so much time, and now everything seems so much clearer now."

I was afraid to ask _what was clear_ so I remained silent and let the old man ramble on.

"I know what I must do for this company." He opened the book to a specific page, and stared at its contents in nostalgia before looking back to me. " _This_ ," he said, gesturing to the unholy symbol on the floor, "is the answer."

"What does... _this_...have anything to do with making cartoons, Joey?!" _He's lost his mind!_ "This isn't something you should mess around with."

Joey rolled his eyes at my accusation. "Do you think I'm stupid? I have studied these things for years, I know what to do and what not to do, and I know what I'm doing." I wanted to retort but the soft squeaks of his chair silenced me as I watched him stroll over to the other side of the pentagram with a wild look in his eyes. His smile grew wide, too wide for my liking, and gave me a determined look. "I'm going to make my- no... _our_ dreams a reality!"

There was a flash of light and a resounding _boom,_ I shielded my eyes and prepared for the worst. An unknown force propelled my wheelchair into the room and jerked to a sudden stop, causing me to fly off and land face first onto the stained floor. It all happened so fast that I failed to acknowledge that the pentagram below glowed a blood-red color. I tried to get up but it felt like gravity was ten-times heavier than it should be. It took most of my energy to just lift my head up and look at the crazed man I called my friend.

He looked down at with me a hefty chuckle and a twisted grin on his face. "You ready to witness a miracle?" It was no more a question than a statement. He opened his book and started spouting gibberish.

As much as I wanted to get up off the floor, let alone smack some sense into this guy, I couldn't.

My head hit the floor as my neck gave out. I cursed as I felt my head throb in pain, I tried to reach my hand to the tender spot that made contact with the floor but only felt an icy, wet substance touch it instead. While the touch felt nice against the heated temple, it also felt too... _wrong_. I looked at my hand only to see it be completely covered in a black substance. I stared at the black mass before me in horror as I twisted my body around to find that my legs, too, were engulfed in the icky, black gunk. I tried to wipe it off, shake it off, but it only spread. I flipped onto my stomach with weak determination and stared at the sinister man before me. He was laughing now. Laughing and laughing and laughing!

"J-Joey! W-wha-!" Bile started growing in the back of my throat and before I knew it I coughing it up and spitting it out onto the floor. But it wasn't mucus or blood, it was black just like the crap that was growing all over me. _Shit, it's inside me too?!_ I cringed at the taste that was left in my mouth, it was stagnant and disgusting, but all too familiar. It reminded me of when I inked over the rough sketches; when I would lick my pen when the ink on the stub would dry over.

That's when I realized what this black stuff was. It wasn't some unholy plasma, or any such thing, it was ink. Regular ink.

"It's torture, I know." My gaze shot up to the crazy lunatic above me. I glared daggers at him but the only response was an amused grin. "But you are the only one capable of it. As for the others…" He closed the book and rolled over to the objects in the back of the room that were covered with old, worn bedsheets. He struggled as he looked for a good hold and yanked the bedsheets to reveal wooden coffins. I held my breath but immediately coughed up more of the ink. The air felt like daggers when it brushed against the back of my throat. "...different methods are advisable."

"...o-others…?!"

"That's right!" He wheeled around and came back to the circle. He was close enough now that, if I had the power, I could reach up and touch his foot. But the ink that has now spread up to my neck is weighing me down even more. My hands don't look like hands anymore, just nubs, and I couldn't feel my legs anymore, let alone have the power to turn onto my back to even look at them. "Did you think you were the _only one_ to receive this wonderful blessing?"

" **Bl** es **si** ng my ass!" My outburst caused another round of coughing fits and as I hacked up more of the ink. I couldn't even see the etchings of the pentagram anymore.

Joey shook his head and waved me off. "You'll thank me later. They always do."

I growled, and stopped. That growl was too deep to be mine. Too _sinister_ to be mine. I choked on a whine as everything started to set in. I could feel the ink drench my hair, blind my eyes, and dye my teeth black. _W-what's happening to me? What's Joey doing to me?!_

" **J-Jo…"** I gurgled as I kept trying to spit the ink out, but it kept coming. I was getting colder, and colder, and then it felt like thousands of needles were pricking my skin all at once. I tried to scream but it came out distorted and _wrong_. So _wrong_!

"Oh how I envy you Henry." Joey mumbled, turning his wheelchair away from the abomination that I was becoming. "As much as I want to be the star of the show, I am not suited for the role. I would be incomplete, a misshapen creature that would never be perfect. But you!" He abruptly faced me again. "You. Are. Him! You are the only one with the proper ingredients, the essence, the living image!"

He looked down on me with a confident, endearing smile as if he was a proud father of an accomplished son. "You give him life!" He laughed and extended his hands in fantasia. "A life that is now yours!"

His laughter was drowned out as my ears melted away into nothing. _Everything_ was melting away. My hands, my legs, my face. It hurts so much, and there was nothing I could do to make it stop. It felt like my body was stretching and thinning out into infinite. I wanted to scream, to cry, to yell...to call for help. To call for _Linda_! The more I struggled, the worse it got, the more it felt like the floor stretched on forever.

 _Oh gosh...Linda...it hurts! Make it stop! Make the pain stop please!_

 _Make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop_ _ **m**_ _ake i_ _ **t**_ _stop m_ _ **ak**_ _e it_ _ **stop**_ _ **make it stop**_

 _ **MAKe iT sToP**_

 _ **iT HurTs…**_

… _ **.heLP ME…**_

 _ **...Linda…**_

 _ **...please…**_

 _ **...**_

…

And then all I saw was black.

* * *

Whispers. I hear whispers. I hear crying...and screaming. They sounded strange, yet familiar.

….

I'm so tired...and scared, but I also feel _safe_ and warm. _Where am I?_

Darkness. Inky, blackness. Am I underwater? It feels like it.

I look up and see a very small glimmer of light. _A way out maybe?_ I swim up to it, and make contact with the outer world. It's dark, but not as dark as the water. I struggle to climb out. My body doesn't feel right. My arms, they're too long and thin. My legs too. I _feel_ wrong. I _look_ wrong. Everything is black like the water, no... _ink_.

I'm starting to remember.

My head is throbbing.

I reach and caress my head as I tried to rub the source of pain. I feel horns, one longer than the other. I'm not supposed to have horns, right? I ignored that and tried to focus. I can see images, but I can't define them.

They're on the tip of my tongue.

It was frustrating.

I looked around the room, it was hard to make out because of how dark it was. I needed to find the light switch.

I cautiously got up, trying to be aware of the fact that my center of balance has shifted last I remembered, and I took a step, and then another, but soon I fell to the floor. I caught myself just before my head could make contact with the hardwood. I looked at my right foot to find that it was twisted. Twisted so much that it faced the wrong direction.

Then I heard the whispers again. I turned around to find nothing, but then I looked at the ink puddle I came from. It was still, and yet it seemed to call to me; to return to it. The offer was very tempting to crawl into that black cocoon I came from, but I wanted answers to the new questions that constantly berated my mind.

I ignored its calls and stared back down at the twisted appendage in deep thought. _How did my foot get so twisted in the first place?_

I shooting pain drowned those thoughts as my head started throbbing uncontrollably. More images were being broadcasted into my head and suddenly pieces came together at last. My leg, my disease...Linda...Jo-

Just as quick as my memory came, something else did too; a swelling sensation in my chest. All I could think about was that throbbing, malicious strain in my chest. On instinct, my hand touched my chest and I could feel the tassel of what seemed to be a bow below my neck.

Then everything clicked. All of my memory was back.

Joey did this. _Joey did this._ _ **Joey DiD ThIs!**_

My entire being seethed with rage. I got to my knees and stared down at the floor in heavy contemplation. _That bastard! That fucking bastard!_ I growled and digged my hands into the wood. I didn't notice the inky veins cascading the walls and floors of the room as it began to rain ink as I continued to dwell on my newfound rage. _Whatever the hell he did to me, he's going to fucking pay!_ I punched the floor like it was nothing and splintered wood flew everywhere, leaving a large hole on the ground.

" **JoEy,"** I cringed at the sound of my own voice, but I didn't let it deter me. If anything, it made me even angrier, **"I'm GoINg TO fiND You, anD riP YOur FuCKinG HeARt OUT!"**


	3. Dreams Come True

It took me awhile but I was finally able to get the hang of walking again. I limped pretty badly, but there was no pain. The inky tendrils displays itself on the walls and the unfathomable rain follows me wherever I go. It actually looked kind of pretty.

But I didn't care about that. I didn't care about _any of that_. I just want Joey. I want him to suffer. I wanted to make him regret ever trying to do that satanic shit with me!

I want to **RiP** that black heart of his out of his chest.

His **hEaRt** will **BeAt** in my hands as I get to watch the life fade from those awful, devious eyes.

I want to see that stupid smile twist into a **pAIn**.

Nothing else matters at the moment. _Nothing else._

* * *

 _*Riiiing* *Riiiing*_

The sound of the phone jittering on its medal pedestal knocked on the aging man's mind vehemently. A scowl crept onto his pale face as he took his eyes off of his prized novelization and onto the annoyance. Who the hell would call this late at night? And to Joey Drew of all people?! He so badly wanted to ignore it, but his stubborn instinct warned him otherwise.

He sighed and picked up the damn thing.

"Hello?" He greeted the caller with hidden malice. A familiar, sweet voice responded. Bile started to surface in the back of his throat considering the new, treacherous circumstances this particular woman would be calling, but it didn't let it bother him. He shoved the feeling away. "Aw, Linda I presume?"

He waited for a response but nothing came. Henry's wife always was the shy, introverted type especially in front of the glowing beacon that was Joey Drew, but she seemed extra quiet. He assumed that the call was about Henry-why else would she call?-and used his charm to dissuade her worries. "Henry's still here if that's what you were wondering. He wanted to catch up on the work he missed while he was gone."

The woman's voice responded with a very faint _I see_ before the static of the phone overtook her again. The man was getting more annoyed, and more intense, he began drumming his fingers nervously on the wooden desk. After what felt like forever she spoke again, except this time her words left the man chilled to the bone.

" _I'm going to come over and check on him."_

He needed to act fast. "Oh no no no, please, you'll only bother him. He wants to be kept alone, he insisted! But don't worry your pretty little head, I'll keep my eye on him and make sure he's alright."

But the woman on the line wasn't convinced. _"I'm coming anyway."_

Damn! "No, I don't think that's necessary."

" _Please, it'll make me feel better just seeing him with my own eyes. I'm sure you would understand, right?"_

He's losing the battle! "I do! But I also understand that Henry can be-"

 _*Hrrrrrrmmmmmmm*_

The sound pounded his ear drums violently, she hung up on him. He bit his lip and slapped the phone back onto the pedestal venomously. He lost, and now that woman is coming over. She practically threw a wrench in his plans!

He glared at the phone sitting quietly at the corner of his desk and then to his book in front of him in contemplation. He opened it and flipped the pages nonchalantly, organizing his thoughts in his tired mind before an idea popped into his head.

He smiled. "If that incessant bitch wants to come, let her come." He stared at a certain page full of runes and incantations with hungry eyes. "She'll make a fine addition to the family."

* * *

There. There it is. Joey's office, just at the end of the corridor.

 _ **It'S ALmOst TIme.**_

My body shivered in anticipation. I took a deep breath and a soft whistle escaped my overbearing **SmILe** as I trudged onward. Ink spiralled and spread across the walls as I got closer, the rain staining the floors and echoing a faint _plip plip_ that seemed to soothe me. It was almost hypnotic, but not hypnotic enough to steer me away from my goal.

The ink entrails are staining the door now as I held out my oversized hand and viciously gripped the knob. The door rattled but did not budge. I scowled. _**The door is locked.**_

"What the-"

I swung my head around to face the other end of the hall. My first thought was Joey, but all I saw was a shaky teen quivering in oversized overalls.

It was Wally. I thought it was just Joey and I here, but then again, Wally did like to sleep on the job…

" **W** al **Ly!"** I called. He has to have spare keys, he is the janitor after all. **"HE** lP **mE** O **uT!"**

He shook his head and took a step back. "Uhh...ugh…! N-no I-!"

I took a step forward and a loud _squish_ echoed throughout the hallway. " **WaL** ly!K **eYs!"**

He bit his lip, then he turned tail and ran. "The money ain't worth _this!_ I'M OUTTA HERE!"

" **WA** LL **Y!"** I tried to run after him but the uncomfortable tug on my foot stopped me. There was no way I could catch up to him.

I looked down at my malformed hands, and then my skeletal torso. _Am I...am I really that terrifying?_ Wally has always been the skittish and cowardly type, but the way he acted now sent chills down my spine. I've never seen him so pale. So _horrified_. **PeTR** if **iEd.**

...What about Linda?

I stared down at my left hand and noticed the absence of my wedding band. I felt all along my ring finger to see if it was just covered up by the ink, but there was nothing. _Oh gosh, how was Linda going to react?!_ The thought made my heart ache. As if she had enough to worry about…

There's gotta be a way. There's gotta be a way to fix this! There **HaS** t **O** **BE**!

I clenched my fists. _Change of plan. I'm going to torture that son of a bitch into fixing this._

 _ **And**_ _ **then**_ _ **I'll proceed to rIp HiS HEarT OuT.**_

* * *

 _*rattle*_

The sound made the tired man jump from his seat. He closed his book and watched the door in horror. A sea of ink cascaded his door as it seemed to move up and down like the waves of the ocean. Never had he seen such a sight, he didn't know whether or not to be scared or in awe.

 _*rattle* rattle*_

It seemed like someone was desperately trying to get in, and for once he thanked his anxious-thinking for making him lock his office door like he did every night after hours.

"Who's there?!" His hands were trembling but he made sure it wasn't evident in his voice. He was very good at that.

…..

Silence. The door stopped rattling and knob stopped twisting, but the ink still swirled and shifted on his foggy-glassed door. He didn't dare break the silence for fear of who-or what-was behind the door to start doing it again.

For all he knew, it was just him right now.

Another minute went by and ink started drooping naturally on the door. The man relaxed a little. "...maybe it was just the ink in the pipes again." He muttered. "It has to be. There's no one else here."

Suddenly a loud scream could be heard.

" _UUhhh. Ugggh!"_

The man froze, his hair standing on end. The voice sounded familiar. "I-Is that...Wally?"

" _...I'M OUTTA HERE!"_

Yes it was definitely Wally, he recognized the young teen's quip anywhere.

But then it was quiet again, just like before, but this time the man was still on edge. "Hmph. Kid must've slept on the job again." He told himself, trying to shake away the feeling fear in the back of his mind. Wally was probably the one trying to get in, to do his usual rounds. Yes, that had to be it. There was nothing to be scared about. Henry's in the basement in the middle of his metamorphosis, and his other creations are down deep into the newer, lower levels of the studio. Everything was fine. He let out a shaky breath that he didn't realize he held and chuckled to himself. "That stupid teen...scaring the wits outta me...I'm gonna have to dock his pay for that-"

 _*Pound* *Pound*_

The sound of the door being pelted over and over again shook the man senseless. He thought it was over. He thought Wally had gone, but it appears whatever he was doing he wasn't finished.

 _ **POUND POUND**_

* * *

It got louder and more violent. "What the-" Joey couldn't even finish his sentence when the door was yanked off his hinges and thrown away like a piece of plywood.

The thing standing there, glowering at the man with unrelenting rage, definitely _wasn't_ Wally.

I punched the door with my fists over and over again. _If I can't unlock it, I'll break it down_. The door screeched from the constant abuse as wood began to splinter and the medal beginning to bend out of shape. I could hear a distraught Joey on the other side and it brought a smile to my face.

So close. Soon it'll be over. I'll make Joey change me back, _**I'Ll kILl thE BAstArD**_ , and say it was an **aCciDEnT**. I grabbed the bent door frame and pulled all of my weight onto it. The sudden _pops_ and groans of the hinges was bliss. _I'll_ _ **THroW**_ _his corpse into the elevator and cut the lines._ _I'll_ _ **bREak**_ _it and send it hurtling towards_ _ **HeLl**_ _! No one would suspect me. And_ _ **JoEy**_ _will be right where he belongs!_

 _ **TO. rOt. In. HelL!**_

With one final pull the door was yanked off his hinges, and I hurled the piece of wood behind me. There, sitting behind his desk as usual, was a pale man with a horrified expression on his disgusting face. The sight made me laugh as I triumphantly limped over to his desk and thrusted my hands onto it. The wood underneath my hands cracked and bits were sent flying everywhere.

"Hen-!"

Before he could even say my name, I grabbed the edges of the desk and threw it across the room. It made contact with the wall and chunks of wood exploded everywhere, causing Joey to hold his hands up in a guard against the flying debris.

With one swift move, I was holding him by the neck with my gloved hand as I held him up to be eye level with me. He instinctively clawed at my hand to no avail as I gleefully watched him writhe in agony.

 **ONe mOVe.** And his life will be mine. But **firSt…**

" **JOeY."** I glared at the piece of trash I held and flexed my hand around his neck. **"yOU BaStARd."**

"Hen-!" My grip tightened.

" **SHUt uP!"** I bared my fangs and growled. **"YoU Are GOinG tO FiX THIs, JoeY. YOu aRE gOinG tO TuRn Me BaCK TO NoRMal. NOW!"**

"I-I….*urk*...can't!" I hissed and flexed my gloved hand again, but despite that he continued, "That's...impossible!"

I scowled at the wriggling man and threw him down in a fit of rage. I held back a roar, his voice still continuing to pierce my ears. "It's...irreversible." He coughed as he wrung his red neck. Despite the choking and foreboding situation, he still had a fire burning in those infuriating eyes. "Perfection requires s-sacrifice, don't y-you understand?!" He struggled to get up but failed to do so with nothing to support him, desk nor wheelchair. He tried to stand but felt too weak to even get on his knees. And yet that determination never waded. He spotted his book a few feet away and tried to reach for it in vain. "You are incomplete. We must continue the r-ritual and-"

I kicked him in his pie-hole and his head whiplashed and hit the ground hard. His nose bled furiously and his teeth were stained a bright red. I hissed at him. **"NO! YoU** _ **WiLl**_ **tURn mE BaCK tO NoRMaL!"**

He coughed more and spat out blood. He turned and glared at me. "W-why...can't you understand?" He wiped away some of the blood and sat up. "I'm doing this for _you_! For _us!_ Once you're complete we'll become successful! We can fulfill our _dreams!_ Do you know how they'll react? Seeing a real-life 'Bendy the Dancing Demon'? We'll be big!"

" **sHuT UP!"** I roared as I swung and kicked him on the side of the head. He was sent skidding a few feet away, trailing blood along the wooden floor. " **I DOn't WanT THiS! I** _ **NeVEr**_ **wAnTeD thIs!"**

He hacked up more blood as he tried to lift his head, only to crash back down onto the floor. But his eyes didn't waiver. "Y-you're an i-idiot. W-why can't you accept m-my gift of _immortality_?! Why can't you let me help you?"

It's the same thing. Over and over.

"Our lives can change for the better! No longer would we be shackled to the unending cycle of life and death, we can build a better place, a better world for our studio!"

Over and **oVer.**

"Nothing could stop us. We can achieve greatness!"

Over **AnD OveR.**

I dug my claws deep into his neck and hoisted him to my eye level once again, staring into the fiery eyes of a mad man.

"Heh heh. Y-you just need to trust your old pal." He smiled, showing off his bloodied teeth. "You just need to stop being such a mother Hen-"

 _Crack._

His limp body dropped to the floor with a soft thud. His eyes now a dull and empty gray. The smile was gone and was replaced with a grim, thin line.

I stood there, staring at the body with an empty gaze and then over to the black book he cherished so much. I limped over and grabbed it, flipping through the pages.

Gibberish. Just gibberish.

I threw the book aside and went back over to Joey. I grabbed one of his legs and started dragging him out of the room, towards the elevator.

I grinned.

One swift motion...and _**HiS lIfE wAS MINe**_.


	4. The Stage Has Been Set

The sound of a door creaking open broke the ominous silence. The sound of heels soon followed as the whine of the closing door clicked shut.

"H-hello? Mr. Drew?" Linda's hushed voice was quivering as she looked around the empty, inky studio. Splotches of ink were everywhere and the sound of turning wheels was the only sound she heard in the room.

She walked over to her husband's desk to find it empty. She looked at the unfinished sketch on the table with mild interest as she walked away in the opposite direction. She was starting to get worried now, she knows it's much too late for anyone to be working now but surely she would have seen Mr. Drew or her husband by now, right?

She _did_ call in advance.

She decided to continue her search anyways. She followed the signs and headed towards the Ink Machine room. No one was there except for the monstrous mechanism that was hoisted up with chains. The room held a foreboding atmosphere and she walked out the moment no soul could be seen.

The moment she did though a loud _crash_ boomed throughout the studio and shook the foundation. She yelped in surprise as she lost her balance and fell on her bottom. She waited until the shaking stopped before trying to get back up again. To her disgust she fell onto a puddle of ink but that was the least of her worries right now.

"What the _hell_ was that?!" She prayed that whatever it was, Henry wasn't involved in it. Although chances in that are exceedingly low considering the lack of presence now.

For now, she put those thoughts in the back of her mind and ran towards the source of the noise.

* * *

It was done. It took a lot of time and effort to drag both Joey's body and his wheelchair to the elevator, but I made it with no injury. Now, the only problem was how to cut the ropes and chains on top. It was way too high for me, despite my new, uncanny height, and my leg prevented me from climbing it. Not to mention I didn't have anything to cut it with. I thought about my claws but the rope was too thick and the chains were too hard. I needed pliers of some kind, or maybe an axe. _But where the_ _ **HeLl**_ _am I supposed to find that?_

So **cLoSE** , and yet **sO FaR**!

The ink around me bubbled. _What do I do now?_ I seethed as I flexed my claws in thought. Then, to my surprise a large tentacle rose up from the ink. I took a step back in fear and readied myself for combat, but it did nothing. In fact, it moved when I moved. Confused, I walked back to it and touched it. It didn't faze it, whatever it was. I reached my hand up and waved to the side, it did too. I waved my hand to the other side, and it did that too.

I looked at my hand and then back at the inky tendril. _Am I co_ _ **n**_ _tro_ _ **L**_ _l_ _ **I**_ _ng it?_ I waved my hand repeatedly and watched as the tentacle swished side to side as well. _Can I control the_ _ **InK**_ _?_

An idea popped into my head. I swung my hand back, the thing copying my motions as well, and lashed forward in the direction of the elevator. The tendril swung and cut through the chains and ropes that held up the deathtrap as if it was butter, and watched in triumph as the box screeched downward into the abyss.

There was a loud _boom_ and the tremors knocked me off my feet, causing the tendril to sink back into the vibrating ink beside me.

Once it stopped, I whistled in relief.

It was **OvEr. JoEy's GONe.**

I chuckled to myself as I stood back up again. But I stopped myself when a thought pierced my heart.

 _ **WhAt NoW?**_ _I have no way to turn back to normal._ I looked at my deformed body in distraught. _How can I come home to Linda_ _ **LoOKiNg LIke tHiS**_ _?!_

A whine escaped my teeth as realization hit me like a ton of bricks. _What have I done?!_ I wandered helplessly over to where the elevator was and stared down into the darkness. _I_ _ **KiLled**_ _my friend!_ _ **HoW cOuLd I EvEn THINK tO Do sUch A ThINg?!**_ The ink rain is starting to rain harder now, pelting me and the floor furiously.

 _ **WHat HAVe I beCOme?!**_

I held my hands and examined them in contemplation. The ritual must have done something to me, something more than just change my appearance. I would _never_ think to go so far as to even _think_ about killing someone, no matter who or what they did. Even if it was Joey. I would never hurt a fly!

I stifled a sob. _Am I going insane?_ If I could easily kill Joey, my old friend, my wife may be in danger as well. _What if I_ _ **hUrT**_ _her too?_ The thought broke my heart.

The sound of heels brought me out of my thoughts. The ink rain dissipated into a subtle pour as I turned my head around. There, standing in the doorway, was Linda.

She held her hands up to her mouth as she slowly walked away from me. She was white as a ghost.

" _ **LInDa?!"**_

Her eyes lit up immediately but as quick as it came her eyes were shrouded in darkness again. She shook her head in disbelief, and then ran off in the opposite direction.

" _ **LINDA WaIt!"**_

This time I ignored my incapacitated foot and ran after her. The sound of her breathing and the steady tapping of her heels helped locate the direction she was going. She was faster than me, but I know that between the two of us I had more stamina, even when I was out of commision during that hellish week of staying in bed. I kept calling her name, over and over again, but her only response was her breathing getting heavier and heavier.

At one point we reached a long hallway and I could finally see her. She paused towards the end to catch her breath, but the moment she saw the inky patterns flourish on the wall she pushed herself to keep moving. She rounded the corner and suddenly there was a shriek, followed by a loud _thump_.

Terrified, I pushed myself to run even faster. It felt like I was running in slow motion as I neared the end of the hall, the anxiety draining me constantly. It was excruciating. It felt like hours but I finally rounded the corner to find Linda sitting on her side, holding her right foot close to her. Her heel was off and she was shivering uncontrollably.

She must have twisted her ankle.

Cautiously, I limped over to her. **"LiNdA."**

She whipped her head around and on instinct threw her heel at me. It hit me square on the forehead and stumbled back, putting my hand over my pulsing temple. I growled as the throbbing berated me over and over again.

The growl threw her off and Linda immediately stood back up again. Using the wall as a support she ran away. She stumbled multiple times and constantly collided with the wall to confirm my suspicions.

I was able to compose myself and ran after her again. She noticed and hastily grabbed her other heel. "L-leave me alone!"

She threw it but this time I was able to jump to the side just in time. She bit her lip and tried to run again but tripped over her own feet and fell onto her stomach. The wind was knocked out of her and she lied there, stunned and immobile.

I limped to her side and crouched to her level. The only thing I could think to do was sit her up and have her lean against me. She struggled weakly at first but gave up when it was too hard for her to focus on breathing. I tried to shush her to calm down but only a whistle was heard. It didn't help.

"L-let…*huff*...m-me g-g-go." She pushed her free arm against me, but I tightened my grip and tried to cradle her instead in hopes of getting her to calm down. I wanted to raise her arms to help open up her windpipes to make it easier to catch her breath, but it would make her feel more vulnerable and scared, so I decided against it.

" **iT's OkAy. I'm nOT gOIng tO HuRt YoU."** I spoke softly. She started struggling again, but I held my ground. **"It'S mE LiNdA, iT's HenRy."**

She froze at the name and gave me a frightened look. "Y-you're….you're not my husband!" I flinched as she pushed harder against me. "You look _nothing_ like my husband!"

My heart broke, and it seemed like time stopped for me. I was stunned, and she took advantage of that. She broke free from my hold and crawled away. She stood back up and wobbled over to the wall, glaring daggers at me. "You're a monster!"

That was it…that was what killed me. It felt like my heart shattered into little pieces. I continued to sit and stare at her in disbelief, shaking my head in denial. **"I-I...I'm not a MoNstEr…I'm not..."**

She took this chance to limp away from me, and I still couldn't move. It hurt too much. I continued to watch her until she rounded another corner and disappeared. That was when my despair reached its critical point as inky tears cascaded my vision, leaving everything blurry. It felt like I was melting, like before when Joey was doing that awful ritual to me.

I sobbed as the ink rain pelted me once again. The loud sounds of ink meeting the floor drowned out my soft wails as I continually denied what just happened; how Linda ran away from me screaming bloody murder like I was a monster!

Then I heard it again, that familiar whisper. Except this time it wasn't from any puddles, it was coming from inside my head. It beckoned me to return to the ink again, its sweet voice promising love and safety. It was so tempting, so so tempting. I just wanted the pain to go away. But I was scared, those whispers weren't natural.

But then its voice changed into something familiar, something sweet and soothing, and it said something that perked my ears.

" _ **Come and join your family."**_

Family. Linda wanted a family. I remember having the talk, about how she wanted kids and that she and I would raise them together. 'It would be wonderful,' she told me, 'we would shower them with love, and we get to watch them grow up into wonderful people! Wouldn't that be amazing?' That smile she gave me that day was extraordinary, it gave me the same feeling that this voice is giving me now.

The voice sounded exactly like hers.

It must be good then, right? Right?

" _ **Please, won't you join us Bendy?"**_

Hearing it say my name was bliss. That was my name right? Yes, it must be, it feels right. I stopped crying as the rain lessened, the pain was fading away.

" _ **The children need a father."**_

Yes, yes they do. Someone has to take care of them; to protect them from unwelcome strangers, from wandering into the dangerous world beyond these walls, to protect them from themselves. That's how a father shows his love and devotion to his children.

 _ **RiGht...LiNDa?**_

I smiled as the ink clouded my vision with a welcoming, inky, **bLaCk.**

Henry **is GoNE, buT BEnDy iS hErE.**

* * *

She kept running, heading towards the exit. She was close now, just around the bend and she'll be home free. She'll get out of here, call the police, and get everything situated. She'll find her husband and things will be okay, everything will be okay…

...everything will be okay...everything will be okay…

That's what she told herself anyway, over and over again.

Around the corner and there it was, the exit. To anyone else it was a shabby old door but to her it was salvation. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she rushed over to the door, happy to have this nightmare end. But she stopped as she watched in horror as ink sprawled itself all over the hallway and onto the exit. Ink started pelting her as large drops seemed to ooze from the ceiling.

She didn't need to turn around to know that that _thing_ was close behind her. She ran as fast she could with her twisted ankle, one hand on the wall as support and the other shielding her eyes from the constant downpour of black liquid.

Her heart racing, she reached out her hand and grabbed the medal knob but failed to twist it when she was suddenly yanked back. The creature got her.

She screamed as the monster grabbed her by the throat and held her up to its eye level. It had a pleasurable grin, just like the one her husband always drew on his devil darlin, and it growled. It slowly tightened its grip around her windpipe as she struggled to break free, kicking it and scratching at its claws with now debauched nails.

"L-let go!" It was getting harder and harder to breathe for Miss Linda as the monster only tightened its grip and growled in mild satisfaction. Her tears have not let up, her mind stricken with fear and terror at the thought of dying and not seeing her beloved again.

Its grip tightened once more. She sobbed. "H-henr-ry…*hic*...H-henry! H-help me…*hic*..."

The monster flinched and seemed to frown at the poor woman in confusion. Its grip loosened as the ink rain let up and scrawl on the walls became less evident. It continued to loosen its grip until it finally let go and the dropped the woman unto the inky floor. She collapsed into a fit of coughs and hiccups as she tried to catch her breath.

Her arms were shaking vehemently as she tried to sit up, but her all energy was drained from the near suffocation and collapsed onto the floor once more. All she could do was stare at the monster's legs as she gulped the air to fill her thirsty lungs. Everything was blurry for a moment until things started to reset back into position when she noticed the monster's right leg; it was twisted and facing the wrong way.

Then it clicked, like someone turning on a switch in her oxygen-deprived brain.

There was only one person she knew that had that injury.

She turned her head upwards to look at the creature clutching its head with a scowl on its inky face, as if it was berated by a migraine. Her eyes darkened as realization hit her.

This thing _was_ her husband.

While the ink rain was barely raining now, the ink was now up to her eyes and she did her best to lift her head high enough to not let the ink get in her mouth. She shifted her body onto her knees to try to sit up again when the sound of wood cracking stopped her.

For a moment she felt her heart pound mercilessly against her rib cage as she tried to figure out where the sound was orginiating from. But the moment she realized where it was coming from, the floor below her gave way and she fell.

Time seemed to slow as she watched the ceiling get farther and farther away. She was too shocked, too tired, to scream or yell as she continued to fall. Her life flashed before her eyes: her childhood, her high school years, the day she met Henry, the day she married Henry, the day she watched Henry drive off to his new job at an animation studio…

...She felt herself tear up at the memories.

"H-hen…"

 _THUMP_

Her head met the wooden floor.

* * *

The ink demon knelt down and looked through the new hole in the floor to see the body of the woman lying there, unmoving, as blood slowly stained the floor around her head. It cocked its head to the side in confusion. _**WhEn DiD tHiS haPpEn?**_ Whatever happened, it looked to be recent. But if he was here, wouldn't he have seen it happen?

He growled and clutched his head, he was getting a bad headache so he decided to not dwell on it.

He decided to investigate the scene. He stood up and, as if it was second nature to him, opened up an inky portal on the nearby wall and limped through. The portal opened up into the room below and instantly everything grew dark as ink sprawled all along the walls and as ink rain casually fell from the wooden ceiling.

He limped over and knelt down next to the woman. He could have sworn he seen her somewhere before, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

He sighed, he was getting a bad headache again. He hated this.

Unlike the multiple souls he could feel further down into the levels of the studio and in the embrace of his ink, he doesn't sense anything from her, no movement, no soul, whoever she was she's dead now.

He shrugged his shoulders. Didn't matter anyways. He grabbed the woman's waist and lifted her up. He limped through the same portal from before and emerged back onto the first floor, heading towards the ink machine.

She'll make a nice addition to the family.


End file.
